


Before the Mirror

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Bodyswap, Come Eating, Come Shot, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, verb roulette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24722977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: He spreads Aziraphale’s legs, rests his chin on the angel’s shoulder, and grins as he looks into the mirror.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 70
Kudos: 327
Collections: Verb Roulette





	Before the Mirror

**Author's Note:**

> For the GO-Events server's verb roulette hosted by [Tiny_Dragongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiny_Dragongirl/pseuds/Tiny_Dragongirl).
> 
> My prompt was **to pull** , and of course I wrote porn.
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

He spreads Aziraphale’s legs, rests his chin on the angel’s shoulder, and grins as he looks into the mirror.

“Just like that, yes,” Crowley whispers. Those words would be hissed if it was his own mouth, his own tongue he was speaking with – but it isn’t.

Because what’s wrong with having a little fun, once the world’s been saved and Heaven and Hell have backed off for a while? Since they found out they could switch corporations with no side effects, why not do it again, this time without having to worry about saving each other’s life?

Crowley’s hands – which really would be Aziraphale’s hands – are shorter, larger, softer than he’s used to, but they work just the same way. Crowley runs them along what would be his own thighs, if Aziraphale wasn’t currently inhabiting his body instead.

Aziraphale moans with Crowley’s mouth, Crowley’s throat, the huff of warm breath comes from Crowley’s lungs, as he watches himself and his lover reflected in the mirror. It’s all out of place – Aziraphale’s enraptured expression on Crowley’s features, his lust obvious in a slim body that blushes all the way down the neck and up to the ears. And Aziraphale’s own face, with Crowley’s smirk on it – all out of place, and yet all completely right.

Crowley knows how his corporation works. He’s lived in it for six thousand years. He knows every sensitive spot, knows where to scratch, where to push, where to **pull**. He takes Aziraphale’s hands in his, guides them down, along his inner thighs, all the way to his cock, his eyes glued to the mirror.

Aziraphale pretends – badly – he’s not looking. His eyes are yellow from corner to corner, either because he has no idea how to control them or because he doesn’t care enough to try. It’d be impossible to miss the way he often glances into the mirror, watching himself in Crowley’s body – so turned on his cock is an angry red, throbbing and beaded with come.

It’s an unbearably erotic sight, and Crowley bites into his bottom lip – which is Aziraphale’s, and much more sensitive than he’s used to – as he watches.

“Grip it. Tight,” he instructs, and Aziraphale does as he’s told, closing his long fingers around his cock, shivering in Crowley’s arms at that first touch. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale breathes out, his head lulling back against his lover’s shoulder. He needs no further encouragement, already pumping hard and letting out little shameless sounds Crowley recognises all too well – sounds that mean Aziraphale is having the time of his life. Crowley doesn’t even remember the last time he’s been so turned on – his own erection pokes at the angel’s back, ignored, and it will stay that way until the demon decides he has time for it.

Not right now – now, all of his attention is for the angel about to come in his body. Because that’s what’s happening, Crowley can see all the telltale signs: the shaking of his thighs, the hitching of his breath, the desperate motion of his hand.

“Remember what I told you,” he mutters, low and gravelly into Aziraphale’s ear. “Right when you get there, **_pull_**.”

Aziraphale nods frantically, and a few moments later, just as the first spurt of white splatters against his chest, he closes his hand tight around his cock and tugs hard, and there it is – Aziraphale’s eyes fly open, he spreads his legs as wide as they will go, and his orgasm goes on and on and on, just as Crowley knew it would.

He drinks in the sound, the smell, holding Aziraphale in his arms while he’s also inhabiting the angel’s body. Aziraphale is everywhere, Aziraphale is all around him. Crowley’s whole world is his Aziraphale right now, and it’s absolutely fucking perfect.

It takes a while for the angel to come back down, and Crowley grins from ear to ear as he watches.

“Oh… oh dear,” Aziraphale sighs, trying to pull himself together, and yet moving slowly, sluggishly, reluctant to stop basking in his afterglow. “You weren’t exaggerating.”

“Nope,” Crowley replies, kissing the side of his neck. “So? Completely satisfied?”

“Oh, yes,” Aziraphale smiles, turning around in his arms. “Absolutely. But there’s something else I’d like to try, while I’m here – in this body, that is.”

Crowley raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? What is it?”

“Would you like to go lie on the bed?” Aziraphale smiles, brightly and fondly and a little wickedly – and it’s a sight to behold on Crowley’s face. “I want to find out what exactly this famous tongue of yours can do.”

Crowley swallows as he gives a short nod, trying not to let his eagerness show on Aziraphale’s face. It’s hard, he finds – he doesn’t know this body enough to control it properly, and if there was any doubt, the angel could simply look down and see his thicker, shorter cock sticking out in wait.

Crowley lies on the bed, feeling the mattress shift under his heavier weight in a way he’s not used to. Aziraphale smiles, golden gaze glazing over the whole of him – and Crowley has never felt more naked before, in this body that won’t respond to his wishes as his own would, in a body that Aziraphale knows perfectly well how to touch, what to look for.

Indeed, the angel immediately proves this by settling between his legs, cupping his cock in his hand and then licking a hot stripe along the underside of it.

“Fuck,” Crowley breathes out, fisting the covers underneath him.

Aziraphale does it again, a smug expression on his face Crowley recognises all too well, then moves farther down, presses his lips to the delicate skin of his balls – and when he sucks gently on it, Crowley almost loses it right there.

“Fuck—!” His back arches off the bed as his cock dribbles down its length, barely touched and already so close to being completely overwhelmed.

He feels rather than hears the amused huff of breath against his flesh, but has no time to take offence at it before Aziraphale is swallowing him down to the hilt, his throat hot and wet and relentless, his tongue changing shape, lengthening, wrapping tight around him.

Crowley hears himself muttering nonsense, but he doesn’t care, cannot care, not when he looks down and sees his own face – a naughty glint in his eyes that is unmistakably Aziraphale’s – sucking the angel’s cock like his life depended on it. Yes, Aziraphale is holding nothing back – bobbing his head and abusing his throat in a way that Crowley hopes to God and Satan he will feel later, once they’re back in their own bodies.

“Angel, I’m—” far from being discouraged, Aziraphale keeps going, and when he pushes a slick, long finger past the tight ring of his anus, Crowley gives up. He comes hard, with a guttural sound low in his throat, this orgasm sharper and wider than he’s used to, sending tingling shocks of pleasure throughout this whole body.

When he looks down again, Aziraphale is licking clean the corner of his mouth, stripes of come on his cheek and shoulder.

“Look at that,” Crowley says, instinctively smoothing his hair back – finding feather-soft curls under his fingers. “You’ve got my corporation all dirty.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Aziraphale gathers Crowley’s spend on his fingers with a slow brush of his hand against his cheek. “I will also clean you up.”

When he brings the hand to his mouth and moans around a wet finger, Crowley makes a choked, startled sound.

He’s never been so overwhelmed in his entire existence – and never more completely, shamelessly, hopelessly in love with this wicked, perfect angel of his.


End file.
